


where the wild thyme grows

by wearethewitches



Series: author's favourites [17]
Category: Faerie Folklore, Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Abduction, Children, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Magic, Parenthood, Queen Sarah Williams (Labyrinth), Sidhe, Unseelie Court, Wild Hunt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 21:01:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17067047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearethewitches/pseuds/wearethewitches
Summary: Sarah has been hiding from Jareth for a long time.





	where the wild thyme grows

_Creak._

Sarah’s head whips around and up, eyes narrowing. Tucking her pen behind her ear, Sarah rises, walking across the office floor to the door, gaze locked on the ceiling.

… _creak. Creak, creak, creeeeeeeeeeeeeeak-_

“Go back to bed,” Sarah murmurs, her whisper travelling up and up, through the paint, ceiling and floorboards to Elliot’s ears. She sees him above her, hesitating as he reaches out over to his school-bag. “Go back to bed, Elliot Williams.”

Her son’s arm shakes before he abruptly withdraws it, head whipping backwards and forwards to shake the cobwebs out of his brain.

“ _Sorry, mother._ ”

“You’ll be forgiven in the morning,” Sarah replies a little softer than before, watching him as he gets back into bed, somehow managing not to disturb his cat guardian. “I love you.”

“ _I love you more,_ ” Elliot mumbles, before curling up in his covers. Sarah’s lip twitches fondly before she takes her pen from behind her ear again, returning to her desk and to her manuscript. _He dreams too deeply,_ she thinks, knowing all he wanted to do was show the goblins his newest book.

Above her, the clock ticks away, turning past ten, eleven and twelve.

Time freezes between _twelve fifty-nine_ and _one o’clock_. Sarah doesn’t stop correcting her manuscript as a shadow forms in the window, barely glancing over when a knock pierces the silence.

“Majesty-Majesty, won’t you join us? The Hunt awaits, Majesty!” The dreadfully familiar, childish, unexpected tone of Mab’s voice distracts Sarah neatly. They lock gazes and there’s a long moment of silence before Sarah speaks.

“Get away from my window, Unseelie Queen.”

Mab’s young visage twists and for a moment, Sarah sees a maw gaping wide full of teeth and bright, yellow eyes that when she looks into, she can see the Unseelie Realm. It’s full of laughter and music, the screaming of a human captive echoing throughout the ballroom as fiddles screech their way through a reel.

“ _Go!_ ” Sarah snaps, before the fae can utter a banshee cry in protest. “You _won’t_ wake up my neighbours or any of the local dead again, Mab!”

Mab whimpers, hands sliding over the glass of her window as she slumps. “But _Your_ _Majesty_ , you haven’t been on a Hunt in over _eight full moons!”_

“You say that like you expect better,” Sarah replies. “Are you bored? Is that why you visit me instead of Titania’s daughter?”

Unexpectedly, Mab brightens at her words. “My niece! Oh, so pretty with her summer-blonde hair! Taken by the Lady of the Lake, before summer-blonde could turn to winter-silver!”

“I beg your pardon?” Sarah frowns, standing and coming over to the window, Mab watching her with barely-concealed anticipation. “Why did the Lady of the Lake take your niece?”

Mab strokes the window again, pressing her forehead up against the glass. Her breath doesn’t leave a fog on the pane, but then again, why would it when her breath is colder than ice? If Sarah didn’t have magic protecting her home, she’s very sure the glass would shatter.

“The Lady is in love with her and has stolen her as a wife. I will miss her, but she is content. The gate to Avalon is like spring all year round – both summer and winter enough that she feels no pain leaving. She never did like the dancing,” Mab says morosely. Sarah listens, still frowning as the information revolves in her head.

“…you never did answer my question. Are you bored, Your Highness?” Sarah questions the fae, who sniffs delicately, hands withdrawing and tucking into her armpits. Mab looks like an insolent child – which should be harder than it is, considering her blood-splattered armour which _radiates_ darkness, Unseelie Magic at its height.

“The Goblin King borrowed my favourite rider!” she spits, fuming and pouting. “Order him back to me, Majesty? He’s my _favourite!_ I want him by my side!”

“I haven’t stepped foot in the Underground since before my son was conceived, Mab,” Sarah hisses, hands pressing against either side of the window-frame. “I haven’t spoken to my husband since our wedding night. What makes you think that I can convince him to give you back your rider before he’s finished with him?”

“You’re the Labyrinth’s Champion, Queen of the Underground and Goblin-Mother,” Mab whines, uncrossing her arms as she glares. “You _can._ ”

“But I _won’t,_ ” Sarah replies. “What kind of favour or boon could you ever offer me to do such a thing? Nothing – I say it now and I say it true. No words or tricks from an Unseelie shall undo my oath never to see my King again in this world.”

Mab snarls and the fiddles screech louder, zipping down a minor scale. Her eyes are dark and twisting though, a laugh escaping her gullet.

Above Sarah’s head, the ceiling _creaks._

“Dead familiar, weak magic spells of warding – what can the Unseelie Court win for the return of a kidnapped Prince of Goblins?” Mab cackles and even as she returns to the Wild Hunt, Sarah is travelling through with magic and dread in her heart to her sons bedroom. But it is too late – a rider of the Hunt has already abducted Elliot. Only the dead cat at the foot of his bed and the open window show any sign that anyone has been there.

“Elliot!” Sarah gasps, falling to her knees. Her hands gather in the carpet, grasping at the warm threads that only minutes ago, her son did walk across in dream-state. Sarah’s head spins and she _reaches_. “Elliot, hear me, hear me! Do not be speak nor listen to what the Unseelie Court whisper in your ear; do not look in their eyes or consume what they offer, even when hunger turns your belly into an aching maw; hear my words and take heed. I love you and I am coming for you. I will _find_ you.”

_Mother!_

Tears prick her eyes, blistering and stinging. Sarah closes them, concentrating on the faint bond, the trail of connection between mother and child.

“I’m coming, Elliot. I promise. I will take you home.”

The connection fades. Mab’s magic clouds it. Sarah feels righteously angry at the sensation, hating Mab in that moment more than she ever has before.

_She stole my son! This, I can never forgive!_

Sarah pushes off the ground, going over to his bedside table and picking up his most beloved possession – a wooden toy, carved by Hoggle and enchanted by Sarah herself. It’s the Labyrinth and it is not, a magic trick of fancy. Elliot loves it, loves peering at the tiny replicas of the Labyrinth’s inhabitants and moving the walls and doors. If she did not think the Goblin King would know, Sarah would have connected it to the true Labyrinth years ago.

The toy is placed in her pocket. Then, she goes to her own bedroom and searches, finding the iron-plated box that protects his first lock of shorn hair, baby tooth and a drop of his magic, contained in a vial in the form of a tear.

 _If I am to find Elliot, I must go Away,_ Sarah thinks. She knows what she must do. She doesn’t have to like it, but she must, anyway. Elliot is more important than her pride. _But I must convince the Goblin King to help me,_ Sarah thinks in shame, knowing the one spell that would prove Elliot’s paternity is what keeps Sarah’s connection to him so strong, even after so many years – and she cannot lose that link, not when it might be the key to finding him.

Sarah’s fingers sizzle when she touches Elliot’s baby box, even with the layer of silk between her hand and the cold iron. She deposits it in a handbag, gathering other supplies she might need for her venture – including food and drink for Elliot. Sarah might be half-bound to the Underground, but Elliot is not.

Time is of the essence. It froze when Mab arrived – the thirteenth hour is still ticking away, halfway between twelve fifty-nine and one o’clock. Sarah knows that every minute she spends in the Above is hours Below.

Sarah goes outside, into her garden where the wards are carved into a circle of stones. She kneels inside them and tells her protective magics, _stop._ There’s a single moment where they protest, but then the next moment, they’re gone – as if they were never there before.

“O Goblin King, please, appear before me. I know you hear me – I know you must always hear me,” Sarah murmurs. “There are no moments to spare and dawdle, husband.”

“Why should I trust your intentions, my Queen?” Jareth appears in front of her, knelt inside the stone circle with her. His eyes are dark as he stares at her, but as always, there’s that _longing._ “Our union was fulfilled in sex and you hid yourself away afterwards. It has been one hundred and thirty years, Sarah.”

Sarah does not reach for him. She finds she wants to. “Mab distracted me,” Sarah instead says, “and used this ere moonless night to sneak another being into my home.”

“Why have you called me?” Jareth questions her, fist curling tightly. “What did Mab do?”

“The Prince of Goblins has been spirited away to the realm of the Unseelie,” Sarah whispers and she does not look away. Her son’s father stares at her for precious moments, before he reaches upwards, taking her face in his hands. Their lips collide – as do their magics, so similar and stubborn. Sarah knows what he seeks.

As they kiss under the stars, their minds entangle. Sarah shows him Elliot as a newborn who would not grow, whose Fae heritage shone brightly under the Aboveworld sun. She shows him her life since their consummation – her pregnancy and her tears, her sins and her failures. There is a demon who was her sons guardian that now lies dead inside her home where she offered it sanctuary in exchange for protection and a gravestone with her brother’s name on it, that she and her son visit once a year on the day the veil between worlds is thinnest.

When they part, Jareth clutches her. He drags her down to the Underground, to the castle where he rules – where rightfully they should _both_ rule, with Elliot as their heir.

“Oh my Sarah,” Jareth sighs, kissing her sweetly before taking her to a vast wardrobe. “We travel to meet our allies. Titania is your friend, I hear.”

“And Oberon is yours,” Sarah replies. With his guidance, she dresses to impress, wearing a silken gown of blues and silvers, diamonds like teardrops on her skirt. Jareth lays a circlet on her head and she returns the amulet around her neck, that she stole from him as a memento that fateful night when Elliot was conceived.

“All the kingdoms would march to war for a child,” Jareth rumbles against her neck, teeth scraping against the delicate skin there. “They are precious and he is a prince. Our son will be rescued in such a way according to his rank.”

“Mab wants to use him as leverage, blackmail – against us and ours,” Sarah confesses, hand drifting down his chest, stopping over his heart. “I’m scared, Jareth.”

“My Sarah…our _son_ ,” Jareth kisses her soft skin, “our son is powerful. I had wondered what young spirit had been roaming the Labyrinth. I heard stories and whispers from our subjects, but when I went looking, he was not there.”

“Magic,” Sarah whispers. “I have his most important things in my bag. If we need to find him with magic, I will be part of the spell. Our bond reaches far, even with Mab’s interference.”

“Let us hope such things will not be necessary,” Jareth murmurs.

“He must be so scared,” Sarah leans against him, shoulders shaking but refusing to let her tears fall. Years of practice have taught her not to say her name nor her sons aloud, but now, she does, giving it away to his father. “Elliot must be _so scared._ ”

“Elliot,” Jareth repeats. “Elliot Williams…”

“I’d burn the entire Unseelie Court for him,” Sarah hisses, angry. “How dare she?”

“Your anger is matched,” Jareth agrees sharply. Their lips meet once more, hungry and obsessive. There’s a shared ferocity and unity – an alliance against all those who would dare use their son against them.

The Labyrinth rumbles and with a single thought, their armies begin to rise.


End file.
